Smith quickly reached down for the knife and cut the ropes off Holly's ankles, then held

her from behind and cut the rope from her hair. He lowered her to the floor. The girl was

panting and delirious, but conscious. Bending over her, he hastily licked the blood from her

breasts, the salt taste making his heart race madly. Then he grabbed a tit in each fist and,

straddling her head, lifted the girl's upper body off the floor, so that her head hung back, her

mouth wide open. This, he knew, would always be his specialty, the cruelest, most inhuman form

of sexual torment he could imagine: throat rape. For the third time that night, he guided his

member, now spuming with pre-cum, to the back of the girl's mouth. Then, brutally and savagely,

with even more speed and fury than he had just achieved in her ass, he slammed his engorged,

massive manhood down the tight, unnatural tunnel of Holly's gullet. As before, the girl's legs

kicked helplessly, her heels leaving thin smears of blood on the rough concrete floor. Smith

pistoned into her with hot vengeance, jerking the girl's breasts toward him as the pile-driver of his

cock rammed in the opposite direction, his swollen balls slapping against her eyes. After a minute

of this punishment his hands began to lose their grip on the girl's tits, now slick with blood and

sweat, so he shifted them to her neck. As he fucked the tight esophagus with even greater fury,

he could feel his cock under his hands, repeatedly expanding the girl's throat. He squeezed the

helpless slut's neck to increase the brutal, divine sensation.